Anticipation

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, for which I should think they're profoundly grateful.

Summary: baby's asleep

Author's Notes: written for comment_fic's adopt a lonely prompt weekend.

Feedback: Yes please. Even if it's bad. Especially if it's bad.

Sam moans when Teyla slides her mouth over her breast, teeth against her nipple. Then she moans again, desperate, when Teyla's mouth goes away.

"Sh," Teyla says, shifting up to breathe the sound against Sam's mouth, then kiss her. "Do not wake Torren."

Sam hears a breathy, wordless sound come out of her own mouth, not sure what she's even trying to say. Her skin's damp with sweat, over-sensitized with the feel of Teyla's skin against hers, and every muscle feels like it's turned to liquid under Teyla's hands, her mouth. Her first orgasm is a distant memory.

"He's asleep," she manages, sliding her hands up Teyla's smooth back and into her hair, pulling her in for another kiss, tongue sliding against Teyla's, familiar enough to make her shudder, distant enough to make her shiver with longing after a year on Earth alone.

"He has very sensitive ears," Teyla says, sounding far more together than she has any right to, rocking her hips against Sam's leg between hers, stroking the edge of Sam's breast.

"Not the only one," Sam says. It's hard to pull away from Teyla's kisses, so much better than in Atlantis, when Sam was lonely and Teyla was grieving, but she does it, sliding her mouth along Teyla's jaw to close her teeth over Teyla's ear lobe. Teyla makes a high-pitched noise, clutching at Sam's arms, and it makes Sam grin, helpless and gleeful. She loves Teyla like this, lost in sensation, all her usual reserve wiped away.

It's even better when she sucks gently at Teyla's ear and Teyla gives a full body shudder that presses her closer to Sam. "Please," she moans. "Oh, please."

Sam rolls them so Teyla's on her back, head almost hanging off the edge of the bed, even though this is Teyla's wide bed. The covers and pillows are long gone, pushed or fallen away, and the two of them are lying across the width of the bed, not the length; they're both physical people, active, even like this.

She slides her hand down Teyla's body, between her breasts and over the firm line of her stomach. Teyla's skin quivers under her fingers, as over-sensitive as Sam's own, and it feels so, so good.

The insides of Teyla's thighs are damp, and Sam's fingers slide easily into her. "Oh," Teyla breathes, her hips shifting. Sam goes with it, lets Teyla get her fingers exactly where she wants, then leans in and kisses her, hard and deep, swallowing up any sounds Teyla might make, enjoying the feel of Teyla's soft breasts and hard nipples against her own, the feel of another woman's body, the curve of Teyla's waist under her other hand.

Teyla's still rocking her hips against Sam's fingers, making it easy for Sam to twist her hand slightly, press her thumb against Teyla's clit. "That's it," she says against Teyla's mouth, pushing her fingers in a little deeper, angling for another shiver. "You feel so good, baby."

Teyla tightens her legs round Sam's hand, going completely still, holding her deep inside, tilting her hips in tiny movements. Sam turns her head, bites down on Teyla's ear lobe, and Teyla cries out, her whole body jerking as she comes on Sam's hand. She's beautiful, perfect, and it's almost enough to get Sam there as well.

Teyla gives one final shudder, then pushes Sam's hand away, curling her own round it and bringing it up to her mouth. Sam leans back slightly to catch her eyes, bright and gleaming in the dim light. "Samantha," Teyla says, rough, low voice, and Sam's honestly not sure if it's her full name or Teyla's voice that doubles the ache between her legs. Or maybe it's just the feel of Teyla's tongue, licking the taste of herself from Sam's fingers, eyes full of promise.

A whimpering cry comes from the next room, audible even through two closed doors. Sam groans, dropping back onto the mattress before Teyla's even shifted. "Your son has terrible timing," she says, closing her eyes, then opening them again to watch Teyla climb gracefully from the bed.

"Yes," Teyla says, wrapping a green silk robe around herself. Sam's glad Torren's still a baby, too young to know what Teyla's mussed hair and flushed skin mean. "But think how much better this will be for the waiting."